


Handle With Care

by Lily_Padd_23



Category: The West Wing
Genre: A queer with OCD just needs love, Boyfrieds, Emotional Support, Established Relationship, Josh is the best boy, Love, M/M, Mental Illness, Sam has OCD, Support, am I projecting? of course not, he just does, mental health, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 09:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19081936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Padd_23/pseuds/Lily_Padd_23
Summary: “I love you, Sam. I love all of you. Every bit of you.”Josh helping Sam come to terms with his mental health.





	Handle With Care

It happened on one of those nights where all he wanted to do was let Josh hold him until the rest of the world could just disappear. Josh had this way of holding him that made him feel like he was inside a cocoon. Just tucked away from the stress of the day. Absolutely perfect.

It wasn’t even one particular thing that made him stressed, just one of those days where lots of little stressful things made the whole day feel heavy. Something to drop, something to wash off, something from which to hide in Josh’s arms. They were the perfect size that they could fit together at any angle.

Josh dragged himself out of his shoes, letting his briefcase and jacket tumble to Sam’s hardwood floor, sliding those last few steps in his socks as he fell to the bed with a groan in something between and crumple and a belly flop.

It was just after 1:30 AM, and Josh’s whole body sank into the bed as he grumbled what was probably a string of swears into Sam’s comforter.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” Sam yawned as he made his way across the room to replace his shoes in the bottom of his closet.

Josh rolled over, flatly laughing at Sam’s joke with a sleepy smile on his face and he sat half up. He gave out a comically huge yawn as he began to unbutton his shirt and tug out of the tie he’d already loosened about as much as he could.

“Come snuggle me,” Josh whined a little as Sam hung up his tie and began undressing.

“Mmm I will,” Sam smiled, triggering another yawn.

“Now?” Josh tossed the his shirt down to the ground and worked off his belt.

“Yeah,” Sam folded his suit onto its hanger and placed it back in the closet on the side with the suits he needed to take to the cleaner’s. Tossing his underthings hamper, he added “Just as soon as I’m all ready.”

“Sammy…” Josh moaned falling backwards onto the bed, “Just come cuddle for a bit.”

Sam chuckled, tugging on his flannel pajama bottoms and a fresh t-shirt, “Right, you know you’ll just make me comfy, and I’ll fall asleep.”

Kicking his pants onto the ground, Josh said, “So? We gotta get up in like, three and half hours anyway.”

Sam just groaned in response, moving to the bathroom, and grabbing his saline solution, and setting out his little blue skin cream tubes.

“Saaa-yaaammmm,” Josh’s protest came again, “Come snuggle!”

Sam turned fondly to take him in, a messy heap of sleepiness and ruffled curls reaching playfully in Sam’s direction in his boxers and threadbare white undershirt.

“Joo-ooshh,” Sam mocked his whine, “I wore contacts today like a dumbass, so my eyes’ll get all dry if I don’t take them out.”

“Fii-iiineee” Josh moaned in the same tone, plopping his head down against the pillows.

Sam got out his contacts and splashed water on his cheeks before washing his face, relishing how the lather made his face feel like he could physically remove the stress from the day. Like he could reset, recharge, and be bright again in the morning. Rinsing that off, he turned to his scrub, and then his night moisturizer. Once he began working on his eye cream, Josh called, “Sammy, baby, surely, your contacts are out by now.”

“They are,” Sam laughed.

“So come cuddle.”

Chuckling at his boyfriend’s persistence, he made little circles with his new tea tree firming serum that was supposed to help prevent wrinkles. As the fragrant oil absorbed, he slipped on his glasses, and began brushing his teeth.

“Sammyyyyy!” Josh called out again with a groan.

“I’m coming!” he answered.

“No you’re not,” Josh replied, his fake pout detectable in his voice, “You’re brushing your teeth.”

“And then I’m coming!”

“No,” Josh whined, “Then you’re gonna do billion things other things, and I’ll be here in this big empty bed all alone for yet another twenty minutes.”

“And _then_ I’m coming!” Sam snorted at Josh’s melodrama, unspooling his floss.

“Yeah, and by then it’ll be like, tomorrow afternoon and we’ll be late for work,” Josh muttered.

Sam just laughed at him. Sam had been thinking about curling up with Josh since about 6:00 when he had forgone his dinner break to eat a salad over a draft for a speech on infrastructure and development, closed in his office, his whole body just longed to be wrapped up in Josh’s. So it wasn’t that he was anything other than eager to crawl into bed beside him, but Josh got even more impatient when he was ready to crash and Sam wasn’t.

“Sam, come on, I’m not asking for much here,” Josh continued with his over-the-top attempt at inducing guilt, “I just want to cuddle,” Sam laughed through his hands as he flossed as Josh went on, “If you really loved me, you’d do me this one tiny favor.”

Sam let Josh whine, lovingly shaking his head with a few low chuckles. His eyes were getting droopy, and he had to stop in order to let out a yawn before spotting Josh in the corner of his eye making an overwrought, pitifully needy hand gesture in Sam’s direction.

“Come cuddle me!” Josh whined again, “I miss you during this part of the night. It’s like you’re defusing a bomb in there or something.”

“I will be right there, baby!” Sam rewrapped the floss around his fingers to change angles and get his back top left molars.

“When?”

“When I’m done!”

Josh went quiet, and Sam heard the bed shift as Josh moved to sit up, his legs bent not quite cross-legged, his arms stretching lazily to towards his ankles.

“Have you ever talked to somebody about this?” Josh said through a yawn of his own.

“In what regard?”

“I mean, like, have you ever talked to a therapist about this stuff?” Josh asked, all the joking gone from his voice, but his eyebrows high like he was bracing himself a little for Sam’s response.

Sam snorted, lifting the floss back up to his face, “Babe, I don’t think there’s something wrong with me just because I’m not cuddling you right now.”

“Sammy…” Josh dragged his hands down his face and said simply, “It’s not that you aren’t cuddling me right now. It’s that you _can’t.”_

Sam felt a something that could best be described as a thud in his stomach. His hands sank down slowly at the realization, and his eyes blinked behind his glasses. He’d never thought of it that way before. He never thought of all his routines, all his little rituals, all the things he quietly needed to be a particular way in order to focus, he’d never thought of that as having control of him. He’d always thought that was his way to be in control. But as he stood there, looking in the mirror, physically and emotionally exhausted, wanting nothing more than to go collapse against his boyfriend, he realized for the first time that he couldn’t have before he completed this list of tasks. He still had to finish his flossing, his mouthwash, and wipe down the counter top, lay out his clothes for the next day, double check that the door was locked, do the final sweep around the apartment to make sure everything was in order, make his list for the morning so he could figure out when to set the alarm, and do his five minutes of meditation once Josh fell asleep.

And no matter how much he wanted to just be able to fall out of his clothes and into the bed, it would have taken an exorbitant amount of willpower to have set down his washcloth and just go to bed. Even then, he would’ve been unable to stop tossing and turning in Josh’s arms, would have to pry Josh off of him to go finish his bedtime routine like he’d have to do when he’d forgot steps. “What if tonight is the night I left the door unlocked?” he remembered having asked Josh over and over again when he’d flail up, diverting Josh’s goal to become one with the mattress.

And then morning would come and he’d do this morning routine while Josh schlepped around the apartment with his adorable bedhead and sleepy little lip smacks and perfectly darling half-asleep eyes.

And then work would come and perfectionism was good. But what if something else happened like that infrastructure draft that pulled him out of the steel trade policy meeting he’d been asked to sit in on to help with precise language. The draft for the event that… the one with the… the thing the President had to.... The draft for and event so comparatively unimportant he couldn’t even remember what the event was just that he never quite got the wording in the B-section to match what he was thinking in his head until it was nearly midnight. And even still, that one line was nagging at him. The right wording was almost like a mosquito that was hovering by his ear by would fly off when he turned his head, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. It was right there. “Significant, tangible advancements” just wasn’t quite right. It didn’t flow. He liked the subtle assonance of the repeat A sounds, but coupled with the harshness of the consonance, it just felt choppy. And while the while statistics HUD had given them were compelling and well explained, he wasn’t exactly sure how a listener would measure a significant, tangible advancement.

“Sammy?” Josh’s quiet voice in the doorway brought him back to the bathroom where his hands had dropped to balance himself against the sink counter and his chest was getting tight, his breathing hitched, and hot tears were hitting his cheeks, “Baby?” Josh asked with soft, confused concern.

Squeezing the words out, Sam managed to say, “You’re right. I can’t. I want to cuddle you, and I can’t. Why can’t I? I want to. I should be able to, but I can’t. Why can’t I? I can’t stop _this...”_ he gestured frantically around the sink, “...long enough to just be with you. Which is what I want to do. I want to but I can’t. What’s _wrong_ with me?” The tears were streaming freely now and little sobs escaped as he held white-knuckled the countertop.

“Oh honey, honey, honey, c’mere,” Josh slurred together propelling himself from where he’d been leaning against the door frame to scoop Sam into his arms, gently nudging him around to pull him against his chest. Splotchy tear stains soaked Josh’s t-shirt as he rubbed his hands up and down Sam’s back.

Sam shook in his hug, crying “What’s wrong with me? What’s _wrong_ with me? What’s wrong with me?” over and over again. Josh just lovingly shushed him with little kisses on his head, waiting for Sam to catch his breath, muttering “It’s okay, nothing’s wrong with you, you’re okay.”

When Sam finally managed to slow his sobs, Josh pulled back, his hands on Sam’s shoulders, tipping back to try and take in Sam’s face.

“Sammy?” he said, with wide empathetic eyes, “There’s nothing _wrong_ with you. There’s _nothing_ wrong with you.”

“Other people…” Sam sniffled, his voice still shaking, “Other people can just go to bed. Other people can stop fixating on one inconsequential paragraph, other people can... _you_ can.”

“Other people also can’t do a lot of what you can do, baby,” Josh said kissing his forehead and pulling him back in. “Other people can’t think like you, other people can’t write like you, other people can’t articulate an idea like you. I can’t. I can’t do what you can do. You’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Other people can stop when it’s stops being helpful,” Sam said onto Josh’s chest, “Other people could let their boyfriends hold them and comfort them without thinking about the fact that they still have a whole side left of their mouth to floss and… you know… a billion other things before they can just fall asleep with their love.”

Josh tugged him even closer, tightening his grip around Sam’s body, one hand in his hair the other still rubbing finger tips up and down his spine, “That’s just how your mind works, baby.”

“Oh god,” Sam let out another little sob, “I must be exhausting.”

“Oh, Sammy, oh baby, no, not at all,” Josh gave out a sniffly laugh, moving a hand to wipe his eyes before tipping Sam’s chin up to rub a thumb across his tears. In a small but steady voice, almost whispering back into Sam’s mouth, he said, “I love you, Sam. I love all of you. Every bit of you.”

“It can't be easy,” Sam said with a faltering breath, “Loving me.”

“Oh, how wrong you are,” Josh smiled softly, “Samuel Seaborn, loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

That prompted another full-body sob from Sam, and he fell back against Josh’s shoulder. Josh held him, curling his lips in pained sympathy, making that face where he was stumbling around between crying with Sam, wanting to be solid for him, and the inconvenient timing of being charmed by how cute Sam was when he cried. He just whispered over and over again, “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay, I gotchu, it’s okay.”

When Sam’s cries turned to shaky breaths and little whimpers, Josh murmured for Sam to take of deep breaths and the slowly inhaled and exhaled in time with each other, Sam constricting tighter around Josh with each one.

“What am I gonna do?” Sam squeaked.

“Right now?” Josh paused to kiss his hair, “Right now, you’re gonna finish up what you need to do to be able to go to bed. And I’m gonna stand right here and love on you the whole time, okay?” Sam nodded a little and Josh kept going, “And maybe tomorrow we can start looking for a good therapist for you.”

Sam let out a low sigh and nestled in closer, “Do you really think they can fix me?”

“No, no, honey,” Josh smiled, “It’s not about _fixing_ you, there’s nothing broken. It’s just about making some of this stuff a little more manageable for you. That’s all.”

Trembling a little, Sam closed his eyes and shifted to plop his chin on Josh’s shoulder, “You seem to know what you’re talking about,” he said, “And I like talking to you. Can you just be my shrink?”

“Well, you’d have to pay me,” Josh kissed his cheek, “And you should know I’m _grossly_ under-qualified.”

Sam was laughing now, leaning away to paw at his tears and look at his boyfriend’s big brown eyes, resolutely deciding that if Josh loved him, nothing could be that bad. So he finished up his little routine with Josh glued against his back, feeling incredibly self-conscious and exposed of all the little things he had to do. That he really didn’t have to do. But he absolutely had to do.

But Josh didn’t make him feel bad. Just planted little kisses up and down the back of his neck, and tickled his ribs until he giggled, and nibbled his ear until he was giddy. When they finally wrapped around each other other under Sam’s bright white comforter and pale grey quilt, Josh was knocked out practically on contact with the pillow. Sam’s mind was racing again. But it didn’t feel like it was chasing something like it had all day and probably would again tomorrow. It was just winding itself down like it always did once he and Josh were holding each other again. Josh took out all the frenetic. Josh made the stream of thoughts steady. Josh honed them and ironed them down and gave them direction. He’d be okay because Josh would keep him going the right way.

“Palpable improvements,” he found himself whispering, letting his eyes flutter shut. The consonance was softer and it didn’t get stuck in his mouth, “We must invest in creating palpable improvements to community infrastructure: improvements you can feel when you drive down the street without worrying about potholes,” he went on, rewriting the entire section from memory. He like the illusion potholes gave back to the repetition of the P’s, “Improvements you can see when you drop your daughter off at soccer practice in the park. Improvements you can smell when the air isn’t polluted, and taste when your drinking water is purified.” More P’s, more clearcut, directly applicable examples, building a rhythm, setting a tempo building up to, “Improvements that, on their own, many not feel like progress, but overtime. Overtime they make our towns and our cities and our countrysides feel more connected, feel more like communities, feel more like home. That’s why we invest development. That's why in revitalizing our infrastructure across the country, in every state, on every street. Potholes, and public parks, and pollution may not feel pressing on their own, but these are in fact among pivotal investments we can make in our communities.”

He paused. Inhaling and exhaling with Josh’s sleepy breathing. Then he tried to shift, “Baby,” he bumped Josh a little, “Baby, I need you to move a second, you’re on my arm, and I gotta write something down.”

“Mmmmm y’don’t,” Josh said, “You’ll remember it.”

“Probably,” Sam conceded, “But I’ll feel better about it if you let me write it down.”

“Sam…” Josh sighed affectionately.

“If you don’t release my arm, and I forget any of it, I’ll blame you for not moving a mere two inches to grant me the mobility with which to write this down.”

Sam heard his boyfriend let out a deep breath through his nose, but Josh eventually rolled over. Putting his glasses back on, Sam flicked on the light and jotted his new ideas onto the yellow legal pad by his bed. The warm lamp light felt harsh on his still-puffy eyes, but he blinked away the stinginess and poured over the edits. As he scribbled, Josh rolled over again to his side facing Sam to drape an arm across his stomach and cuddle into his shoulder.

“Goodnight, baby,” Sam whispered, taking his free hand to comb through Josh’s curls.

“G’night, Sammy,” Josh replied into Sam’s shirt, “Try to get some sleep.” The he paused for a few long breaths, “If you can.”

Moving a particularly fluffy curl from Josh’s brow, Sam replied, “I can. I always can with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> As someone with OCD, it is so obvious to me that Sam has it too that I often forget it is't canon. I know everyone's OCD is different, so I'm not trying to paint us all with a broad brush. But I'm hopeful that other people who go through the same thing can see themselves in Sam the way I do and feel encouraged by that. And that those who don't can look to Josh as a model for how to love somebody with this. 
> 
> As always, these characters don't belong to me.
> 
> Shoutout to Mads and Alex for reading and sound boarding. And to my girlfriend for giving this OCD gay all the love she needs. 
> 
> Title from the song of the same name by the Traveling Wilburys (thanks Mads for reminding me that this song exists!!!!!!)


End file.
